


Interrogation

by GenerallyHuxurious (GallifreyanOmnishambles)



Series: The Korova Milkbar [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Burns, Historic injury, Interrogation, M/M, Psychological Torture, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/pseuds/GenerallyHuxurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prisoner sat ramrod straight in the uncomfortable metal chair, his posture a statement of defiance. His limbs ached, the left side much stiffer than the right. He'd tried to to ease stiffness as he'd been dragged through the corridors and received a punch to the gut for his troubles. Now he wouldn't give the observer the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. And there was an observer- Brendol could hear him breathing, slow and deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrogation

The prisoner sat ramrod straight in the uncomfortable metal chair, his posture a statement of defiance. His limbs ached, the left side much stiffer than the right. He'd tried to to ease stiffness as he'd been dragged through the corridors and received a punch to the gut for his troubles. Now he wouldn't give the observer the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. And there was an observer- Brendol could hear him breathing, slow and deep.

This was not his ship. Although the current room was soundproofed he'd heard enough of the distant hum- three of the larger new style ion engines and eight of the old - to know this was not a vessel he'd ever travelled on before. The sound also told him the hyperdrive was engaged. They were travelling far from where they'd captured him. 

There has been a period of unconsciousness, he knew that much. From the metallic taste in his parched throat and the stiffness in his limbs it had been a chemically aided condition. From the pain in his bladder it had lasted for over a day at least. 

The soft click of boot heels echoed around the small chamber as the observer finally moved, the dull rustle of heavy cloth suggesting the removal of a coat and the rolling back of sleeves. They'd hooded him before they'd hauled him away, of course they had, what better way to leave him vulnerable and disorientated than to take one of his senses? Despite the significant interval since then, the hood remained in place. 

Beneath his hood Brendol rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Nothing better that a low level cliche ridden interrogator for him then. Well they'd gain nothing from him. He'd always scored highly during his time at the academy, and he'd been through enough since then to know he could hold out against whatever they did to him.

"I've watched your career with interest," said a clipped voice speaking from disconcertingly close to his ear, "who would have thought you'd do so well after what happened at the Academy?" 

There was an accent to the man's words, a touch of something beyond the usual tones of the Empire and Arkanis.

"I didn't let it hold me back. I worked hard and I proved myself! I got where I am today by being better than the rest!" Brendol said a little haughtily. 

Behind his head he heard the soft slide of leather gloved fingers over the brushed steel surface of the interrogation chair. A small sound, far more sensual than it had any right to be. Not in this room.

"Where you are today. Is that so?" The reply dripped with irony, a fingernail tapped against his restraints to counterpoint the statement. "Do you know me?"

What a ridiculous question! As if he had time to know ever lowly interrogator in the fleet well enough to recognise their voices. He wouldn't dignify such nonsense with a response.

"There has never been any complaint against my work!"

"No, you're right," there was that accent again, that significant sound that sat just beyond the grasp of his conscious mind. "There has never been a complaint. You've impressed everyone you've ever dealt with."

Brendol nodded emphatically at that. This was no time for humility.

Somewhere to his left a glass bottle tinkled slightly as its metal top unscrewed. 

"Yes, you've impressed the Admiralty, the Civilian Council, the Ministry for Moralistic Behavior." The voice paused with an air of satisfaction. "The Resistance."

Abruptly, like a balloon suddenly punctured by a well place arrow, Brendol's heart dropped into his shoes. 

That distinctive extension of the R.

He did know this voice. He heard it everyday. Piped though the corridors of his ship to inspire the troops. On the holonet as it delivered their orders. In his dreams when his mind cruelly replayed the single most traumatic incident of his young adulthood, the day that had almost cost him his career.

There had been so much jealousy over the academy successes of Commandant Brendol Hux' son. Young men with lower scores and lesser wits had plotted his downfall. They'd released an animal they'd caught during a recon mission into his quarters. They'd expected the shock of fighting it off to bring him down a peg or two. But they'd lacked any knowledge of what the thing was or how it attacked. One, slightly brighter than the rest, had gone running for a housemaster who'd shot the thing in time to save his arm. The surgeries that followed had been horrible, agonising affairs, the exile ships still ill-equipped to deal with such things. 

The Commandant had been furious. 

It was a miracle Brendol was able to complete his training at all, given what he'd done. 

"Auren." He said in a voice empty of hope.

"Commander Jerjerrod, it's been such a long time." Hux said in a tone that betrayed his smile. Brendol knew that if the hood were taken away he'd see that it was full of malice. He'd seen what Hux could do, would do, to prisoners. Perhaps it was a blessing that they'd restricted his sight. "Welcome aboard the Finalizer."

"Th-thank you, General."

To his left he heard a lighter spark. After a moment a spot of heat and pain blossomed along his forearm, expanding with an agonising slowness. Even through the hood he could smell burning. Tipping his head back Commander Brendol Jerjerrod bit his lip and fought down a scream.

"You're going to tell me everything you've ever communicated to the Resistance. Everything." Hux paused, breathing deeply. As he exhaled a second spot of pain joined the first. "For every moment you are not speaking the pain will continue, and I will take great pleasure in describing the exquisite way your skin, and muscle, and tendons, and bones _burn_. If you tell me enough perhaps I might leave you with sufficient limbs to survive your imprisonment. Does that seem fair to you, Commander?"

Taking another drag on his cigarra Hux leaned forward and poured another drop from the bottle in his free hand onto the writhing man before him. He was very proud of this particular compound. It attacked the nerves, working progressively deeper with repeated exposure and creating in the body of the subject a sensation akin to being burned alive. But at the same time it caused no lasting damage and created no outward signs of its effect. The prisoner could be handed over to the Justices quite whole and healthy, to face the trial his illustrious name demanded. Of course, whether he'd be entirely sane once Hux was done with him was another matter. 

But wasn't that just a case of giving the man a much belated taste of his own medicine?

\-----

Across the hall, the light of the monitors glittered in the fervent eyes of a most devoted acolyte. With shaking fingers Kylo Ren adjusted the volume, licking his lips compulsively as Auren flexed his shoulder and turned back to his work. The anticipation was unbearable. It was going to be a very long night.

**Author's Note:**

> This work relates to Ultraviolence a WIP fic that can also be found in this series.


End file.
